There Are Rocks In My River

You Want Me to Bathe In What?

2012-03-09T09:18:00.001-08:00

The PC nurse was very empathetic yesterday and shares my concern that I've been on too many antibiotics. I've asked the two different doctors I've seen about my "rotting legs" problem and they, along with the nurse, say it's caused by bacteria that we all have on our skin. When I get a small break in the skin (bug bite, for example) it gets infected.

Because I'm in the tropics, the infection spreads quickly. I held off 1 day too long in going to the hospital to get antibiotics this time. I'm paying by having fever and general lethargy along with pain when I walk or stand. The fever isn't all bad. I kind of like the part when I have chills and my teeth are chattering. Only time I've been cold in Samoa.

Yesterday, the PC nurse suggested I try a preventative measure.

"Do you have access to a bathtub?" Did she really just ask me that? I have not seen a bathtub since I came to Samoa. I've seen the two most expensive, fanciest resorts on my island and there is not a bathtub to be found.

"How about a large tub that you could put water in?" Yeah, I got my laundry buckets.

"Try bathing once a week in water that is 9 parts water and 1 part Clorox." I don't like cold showers. But I'm not sure a sponge bath (or bird bath, as my mom used to call them) in bleach will be more fun.

Then again, if it prevents me from getting another giant hole in my leg, I'm all for it. I'll let you know how it works.

More Random Stuff

2012-03-06T21:58:00.000-08:00

Was thinking as I did my laundry yesterday morning that it’s become quite routine. Takes me about 10 minutes to rinse out clothes that have been soaking overnight. Another 5 minutes or so to hang them out. Shouldn’t have been feeling quite so cocky since when I got home yesterday I discovered a bird had pooped on some of them.

Took the trash out yesterday which involves strolling about 50 yards behind my house and tossing it into the large pile of junk. Styrofoam, tin cans, bottles, etc. are going to be there awhile. I feel guilty every time I do it.

On my way, a pig started following me. If they think I have food, they’ll get close enough to touch. The family has assured me they won’t hurt me but they’re huge and have rather large teeth to say nothing of sharp hooves. I wanted this one to follow me so she could get at my garbage. I was calling sau (come) sow. That’s pronounced sow sow. I do find myself amusing.

Principals’ meeting today so I had Year 8. Plus Year 7 and Year 5. It was going fairly well until Year 5. They’re on the first floor. Year 8 is on the second floor. I did a lot of running up and down the stairs between classes. I’m pooped.

I didn’t sweat much today. Yeah, it’s true, fat girls sweat. In Samoa so do skinny girls. Today, though, was cloudy with intermittent rain. Much cooler than usual. I love coolish, cloudy days. I feel for those of you in winter climates with lots of cold and little sun. I lived in Michigan for 13 years and I empathize. But I’m kinda tired of tropical sun and sweat every day. Days like this are a pleasant change.

Caused a stir at school today. Got permission to take the less advanced Year 8 kids and add them to the less advanced Year 7 kids so they’re all pretty much at the same level. I can do lessons tailored to them instead of them just sitting there bored out of their minds while the stronger students move on. At first they were unhappy. What, us? Year 8 mingling with the lowly Year 7s? But they got into it. They got to be the smart kids in the class for a change.

Teachers gave me the 411 on new uniforms today. Do you think they were kidding when they told me that Friday I’m just supposed to wear panties and a bra?

My little brother Richard was watching the school from his house today. Every time he saw me running from one room to another he started waving and yelling my name. You have to make your own entertainment when you have no tv.

Speaking of making your own entertainment, most of the kids here don’t have many toys. Too expensive and the ones you can buy here are cheap junk that breaks quickly.

While on the phone yesterday I saw a boy driving his “car” along the road. His was very advanced. Usually, it’s just a long stick, with a horizontal stick at the bottom. They push them around and make car noises. They have races and chase each other around with them. Some have wheels on the bottom instead of another piece of wood.

The one yesterday was the deluxe version that had a large wheel on the ground, with a stick attached to that. Attached to the stick was a piece of wood with a small can (tuna, I’m assuming) attached. He had a burning coconut shell in the can. It makes smoke which is the car’s exhaust. I’ll try to get a photo. Pretty clever and I’ve seen boys play “cars” for hours.

The open sore on my leg seems to be getting worse. Anybody want to see a photo? Nothing like an oozing open sore to help keep you on your diet. PC nurse is out of the country but back tomorrow. Once I get permission to go to the hospital I’m betting they put me on antibiotics again. Last round was in January. At home I took antibiotics about every 10 years.

I take a shower every day. I feel for the volunteers in really cold climates who get maybe a shower a week (or less). My current record is five showers in one day. It’s the whole sun/sweating thing. I shook my head the other day and my hair was so soaked with sweat I got drops on my glasses. And people here still like to run their fingers through my hair. Eeeuuuuwww.

Got hugged by all the Year 2 kids today. Better than George Clooney. Almost. At least I assume that George wouldn’t be passing on a skin infection to me.

Random Thoughts on a Rainy Saturday

2012-03-06T21:53:00.003-08:00

Written Saturday, March 3, 2012

Two other volunteers were coming over today but I had to postpone. Seems the pig I ate at school yesterday didn’t agree with me. Or something else I ate. The pig tasted the best I’ve had in Samoa. It was cooked all the way through. It was great right up until I started to put the piece in my mouth with all the bristles on it. And until about 2:00 a.m. when it let me know it preferred not to be inside me anymore.

Rainy today. I love rainy Saturdays. Growling guts and rain give me an excuse to just lounge around the house. It’s warm but not hot. I hear the ocean. The bathroom is nearby. What more could I ask for?

I washed clothes today, as I do most days. It’s getting a second rinse in the rain right now. It may dry. It may not. At least it’s out of the laundry basket. Which, by the way, has been one of the best, most surprising things I’ve gotten in a care package. My friend, Sister Mary Margaret, said she got it in a dollar store. It’s collapsible, made of mesh and some kind of firm stuff for the sides and is wonderful. If you know a Peace Corps, send them one!

Have I told you that the same week that Mr. Kindle died my headlamp also died? Like couples who’ve been married 55 years they couldn’t bear to be apart. I’ve been using my mini Mag lite, which works but is not nearly as good as my headlamp. The death of the headlamp was caused by a broken hinge on the flap that holds in the batteries. Design flaw, I think.

I’m reading a George Carlin book called “Napalm and Silly Putty”. I love George Carlin. I share his views on Americans and their children – he says we’ve gone too far in making kids the center of our world. Amen. I remember the olden days when my brother and I were trotted out to meet guests, then quietly disappeared to our rooms for the remainder of the evening. We liked it that way. I hate it when I visit people with young children and they are the center of attention for the whole evening. I love kids but what happened to adult time? Or how about the time a friend had to lock herself in the bathroom to talk to me on the phone because her 5 year old wouldn’t leave her alone? Wrong. Discipline is not bad. Beatings are bad. Discipline is good.

There’s a funeral going on two houses down. I didn’t go to pay my respects because that would have required them to give me cash, cases of tinned meat and a fine mat worth about $500 tala. They had a brief church service. Most of the rest of the time is spent giving out food, etc. and paying respects.

It is 9:25 a.m. I have 7 flies crawling on me. I keep fanning them off. They come back. I like breadfruit, but breadfruit season, which lasts for a couple of months, brings flies. Where are they the rest of the year?

I have another boil on my leg. That brings the count to four. They leave scars that are ½ to 1 inch in diameter. I’m beginning to look like a giant connect the dots puzzle.

Does Peace Corps make a difference? Does it matter if a few people around the world have wonderful memories of Americans who lived with them and did their best to help them? Could it stop a war from starting? If you think there’s even a possibility of that, please contact your Congressman or Senator. Peace Corps is not a high priority when it comes to the budget.

I love Julius. He’s the 3 month old who is part of my family. He laughs when he sees me. He reaches for me. Samoa has a very young population. There are babies everywhere in Samoa and people are willing to hand them to strangers. I love the looks on their faces as they stare at me. For many, I’m the first white person they’ve seen.

I went to check mail yesterday. Thanks for the post card, Jens! The bus ride home was one of the worst I’ve had in Savaii. It took over an hour and the bus was ridiculously full. It was very, very hot and even the air from the windows couldn’t penetrate the center of the bus where I was. When I got home I stood under a cold shower for five minutes. It was sublime.

The LDS church in our village brought us more new desks and chairs yesterday. Very generous of them. In return, members of the school committee and the male members of the staff had an ava ceremony for them as a thank you. The female teachers, other than me, spent the day in the kitchen, gossiping and laying out the food the school committee brought. I was the only teacher in a classroom.

We start another round of teachers’ meetings next week. Three days a week for three weeks. We don’t need furniture or technology as much as we need teachers to actually be teaching.

Two pigs are just outside my window eating the rotting breadfruit that fell in the night. God bless the pigs. Fewer breadfruit, fewer flies. Plus, if you’ve ever seen a sow with breadfruit spread all over her snout, it’s pretty funny.

Yesterday I watched my 13 year old brother head to the plantation to get some taro. He was carrying a shotgun and a machete. Imagine seeing that in your neighborhood.

My father, who is a very fit 52, is walking around wearing nothing but a towel this morning. With about 100 people nearby for the funeral.

Very loud hip hop music doesn’t play as frequently at my house since the 24 year old brother moved to Apia. I miss him. I don’t miss his music.

There’s a cow making a lot of noise nearby. I think he realizes he’s going to be hacked up and given out to guests at the funeral. Part of fa’alavelave. Cattle are not raised for milk or meat here. Just for fa’alavelave.

The wheezing pig is back. She’s one of the ones eating breadfruit. I think she may have asthma.

Just Some Stuff I Noticed

2012-03-06T09:28:00.000-08:00

School times were back to normal yesterday. Some teachers stayed later than usual to continue work on fixing up their rooms and lesson plans. I stayed to finish typing the Year 8 exam then some Year 7 boys wandered in and wanted to do a little singing. I'm teaching them "We are Family" and "Eye of the Tiger". They seem to love them both.

My tiny buddy Richard was hanging out with me yesterday, sort of. I was on the phone with a friend in the States. Richard and 7 friends and siblings were just hanging out there because I was there. It helped that I had just bought a loaf of bread. Richard was eying it, so I ripped off a piece and gave it to him. He tore that in half and gave it to his sister. She tore that in half to give some to the baby she was holding. I continued to rip off more pieces. I ended up with half a loaf and a lot of smiles.

As I walked back to my fale, Richard yelled my name and "Fa!", our normal routine. He kept yelling until I was in the house and out of sight.

I've mentioned I live with a big, boisterous family. They're fun to be around. Yesterday as I walked home, with Richard's yelling following me, my brother's were all chillin' outside their store. 2 grown men, 2 high school boys with a couple of friends. Just hanging out together. Nice to see.

Julius is a really cool 3 month old in the family. His grandpa, who looks like a Samoan Richard Gere, is his primary care giver and loves his job. Today when I first came home from school to drop off my junk they were napping. Julius was on the bed inside his mosquito baby "tent". Grandpa was on a mat, swaddled in mosquito net. Very cute.

While typing the test today I laughed out loud. One question was "What three things are needed to make a fire?" My answer? Marshmallows, hot dogs and beer. Samoans don't get my humor. Neither do most Americans. I crack myself up.

Helped some of the "at risk" (academically challenged) kids yesterday. Helped them make their own dictionaries. They started filling them with words they know, along with the Samoan word to help with retention and spelling. May save me from poking my eyes out when the 14,000th kid asks me how to spell jump in a five minute period. Also helps them with alphabetization, spelling and really gives them a boost when they realize how many words they actually know in English.

Couldn't buy phone credit in the village yesterday and since I'm trying to avoid the sun (small issue on my face and the meds don't react well to sun) was waiting for the bus to head to the big store a mile or so away. Scored a taxi ride with one of the other teachers. Driver was a friend of hers and he dropped me off for free. Yes!

Is it more annoying when people talk about you in your presence in whispers, while staring at you and using your name, or when they talk about you in Samoan, full voice, with you standing there? I experienced both yesterday. They weren't saying anything bad (I don't know about the whisperers), just commenting on what I was wearing, what I had just purchased at the store, the fact that I was waiting for the bus, etc.

The teachers do it at school, too. It feels a bit like being a zoo animal with people commenting on you and assuming you can't understand. They told us this kind of thing would happen when we signed up for Peace Corps. We're the odd one out.

When the teachers do it, I now either join in the conversation, making snarky comments about me in the third person. Or, I start talking about them to an imaginary friend. It makes them laugh.

And what if zoo animals really can understand what you're saying about them? Are they talking about us to each other?

I'm going to miss koko Samoa. It costs $2.50 for a baggie full that fits in a styrofoam cup. It makes a lot of beverage. It not only is tasty, but is a great room deodorizer. I bought some yesterday to take to school today as an oso for the teachers. All night I kept getting a whiff of roasted chocolate beans. Very nice.

Good Afternoon, Sir!

2012-03-05T00:02:00.000-08:00

It was an interesting day. As I posted earlier, the bells started ringing early. Over an hour early. When I got to school one of the teachers was directing kids to do the normal morning chores - an hour early. Most of the kids hadn't arrived yet.

I asked what was up. "Feeling good. Time to work!" Okey dokey, then. I also noticed that all the other teachers were sporting white shirts/blouses and blue ie lava lavas. I was wearing my normal Monday attire, which involved blue and black.

I asked my boss for an update on attire and timing. Was I miss a memo? Yes, seems I did. We now have a new uniform for Mondays. I have to figure out where I can come up with a cheap puletasi top by next Monday.

I asked if we were changing uniforms for other days. "Not yet." Hmmm. It costs me about $50 USD for a new puletasi. This far into service I really don't care to buy any more.

At the time that normally signals the end of the day, nobody was going anywhere. I'd taken on my principal's class earlier and he didn't come to take them back so when dismissal bell rang I was the teacher. I went to where he was doing administrivia and asked if I could send them home. Yes.

I went back to the class, did the prayer and told them to head for home. Then another teacher came in and said to keep them there. Seems the pule forgot that he wanted to do an extra class to prepare for a district wide exam next year. I wasn't aware of that either.

I hung out with some of the kids while I waited for the bus. They belong to the family that lives between my house and the school. Richard, the three year old is my favorite. While we waited, he didn't hesitate to drop trou and take a leak from the bus stop. As I crossed the road to get on the bus, he was waving and shouting my name, along with "Fa" - the Samoan goodbye. He kept waving and shouting and I kept waving and shouting "So long!" until the bus was well down the road. He makes me smile.

In town, I used the ATM and hit the grocery store. They had canned tomatoes - yes! I also got a bargain on some partially frozen chicken dogs (the only kind in Samoa, why is that?). Who knows how many times they've been frozen/thawed/refrozen. Also bought a couple of apples. They're $.75 USD but crispy and a great treat. Especially since pineapple and mango season is over so papaya is our primary fruit. And frankly, if I never eat papaya again, I'm ok with that.

After shopping, I was waiting on the "porch" of the store where there are benches for us bus waiters. There are generally at least 10 of us. A man approached me and in a jovial tone said "Good afternoon, Sir!" No problem, since English isn't his first language and he gets points for speaking in English to me at all. He is a cab driver and was looking for a fare. He even offered to give me a discount but I waited for the bus.

When I got on the bus, it was fairly crowded. And instead of turning right toward my village as we left town, we headed left. Hmmm. We drove a couple of miles, pulled into someone's front yard and the "bus boy" dropped something off.

Then we headed back in the right direction. Except we turned off toward town instead of heading to my village. Ok, I'd waited an hour for the bus, what's a few extra minutes?

We drove through town and parked for a few minutes. No one got on. No one got off. Then we headed off again, in the right direction. We stopped back at the store where I'd started so a woman could run in and pick up something she'd forgotten. A few miles down the road we stopped again so she could pick up some cucumbers at a roadside stand. At the largest store next to my village we stopped yet again so the same woman could run in and buy some bread.

Imagine being on a bus that spends an extra 20 minutes first trolling for more passengers (why he made the second trip through town, I discovered) and then stops so you can run a few errands. It was a very full bus on a very hot day. Noone except the sweaty palagi seemed the least bit surprised or perturbed and I kept my mouth shut and a smile on my face.

I got home, did the daily housework and picked up some rubbish around my house which caused quite a stir since that is a child's job. Two of my family's kids came running over to do the job. I felt bad but they always stop picking up rubbish before they get to my house and I was tired of looking at the Styrofoam containers and chip bags that had been blowing around for four days. I probably should have just left them there.

After a shower, I was relaxing on my bed, reading George Carlin. I saw my brother approaching with a man. He sent the man to my door and went on to feed the pigs. I recognized the guy but couldn't remember his name or where we'd met. Unfortunately, too common for me.

Turns out he's a Year 8 teacher from another school who lives in my village. He was at my school for 2 days last year. He was there to tell me he needed me to type his 100 question science test and print it. And could I do it right then. It was 7 p.m. It was the first time I'd sat down, other than on the bus. I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

We negotiated and I typed most of it after dinner and will finish the rest tomorrow morning and give him the printout after school.

Every day is a new adventure.

Bells

2012-03-04T09:43:00.000-08:00

I only have a second to type. I'm listening to the bell at the school ring. It's about an hour before it is due to ring. I have no idea why but figure I should throw on my puletasi and investigate.

The school bells have been ringing at random times recently. There have been a lot of meetings and the principal has been gone a lot. Even when he's there, the teacher responsible for ringing the bell seems to do it based on some criterion I'm unaware of.

Hopefully, this morning was just because some kids were being cheeky and ringing it without authorization. I do know it was not being rung as a tsunami warning. That's good news.

Happy Monday to everyone on this side of the International Dateline. Happy Sunday to everyone else!

Disgusting!

2012-03-01T09:44:00.002-08:00

This post has nothing to do with Samoa. It’s about a tree. Near my home in Florida is a small park. It has a boardwalk that leads to a tree named The Senator. The Senator is impressive. Even more impressive is that it is 3,500 years old.

At least it was. In January, it burned down. At first people thought it was lightening that caused the fire. But the police determined it was arson. Who would torch a 3,500 year old tree? And why?

It was a 22 year old woman who was there doing “illegal drugs.” I don’t know what kind. She said she set the tree on fire because she needed some light to see what she was doing with the drugs.

The Senator survived the daily thunderstorms we have in Florida. It survived wildfires. It survived suburban sprawl. It didn’t survive an idiot with a lighter and a drug habit.

Noisy Night

2012-03-01T09:43:00.000-08:00

We had a thunderstorm around midnight last night. Wind, thunder and bright flashes of lightening, accompanied by pounding rain. I love thunderstorms and miss the ones at home in Florida. Last night the rain cooled things down, temporarily and it was nice to lie in bed and listen to the rain and thunder.

About 2 a.m. one of the cats decided to go hunting in my ceiling. I have a family of rats living in the corner of my “attic”. In my living room/bedroom. I see rat poop and I hear them and see them occasionally but so far they have ignored every tempting treat I’ve put in the rat trap.

The cats have been hunting every night for them, which is fine by me. I prefer they don’t wait until the wee hours, though. To get up into the ceiling, they leap off the 3 foot base of the fale next door onto the wire over the window in my bed/living room. My house is made of tin and not particularly sturdy, so when the cats hit the wire and latch on with their claws, it sounds like someone has thrown a 20 lb rock at my tin house. Like a bomb going off.

Then they climb up the outside wall to where there are gaps between the walls and the roof. That’s where they crawl into the space over the ceiling. That is followed by much commotion as they try to maneuver in a very narrow space while hunting the rats.

I heard one loud squeal that seemed to trail away from the house. Clearly, one of the rats had escaped. Then I heard cat yowls and a thud as the cat leaped to the ground and ran after the rat. I hope the cat won the battle.

About 3:30 a.m. something woke up the dogs. There was a dog war in front of my fale. It happens every night when someone walks through our yard. It happens when I walk through the yard in the dark going to the road to catch the bus to the ferry. The dogs don’t recognize me and go in full attack mode.

Last night there were at least a dozen dogs, fighting. There was a lot of barking and growling which is typical. There were also a couple of dogs howling, which is not.

I don’t know if it was the dogs that set off the rats again but after the dogs moved off to fight in the neighbor’s yard the rats who live over my head got into a tizzy. There was squealing. There was scurrying. I finally got back to sleep around 5 a.m. Then the church bells started a few minutes later. Around 6a.m. I got up after being awakened by the pigs. They usually aren’t up quite that early and I’m not sure what one of them was unhappy about but one was chasing the other. Both making a lot of pig noises. After the brief chase, one came back to lie on my front porch. She was wheezing and making annoyed noises.

As I type this I can hear the sound of the horn blowing to call the fisherman to go out fishing together. My family has their stereo on as do the neighbors. Different songs.

Now there's a large group of young men marching down the main road, singing. Not sure why. Probably trying to raise money. Could be a soccer team or church youth group.

I thought a rural village would be a quiet place. It’s not. Last night was just particularly noisy.

I Don't Live Like a Local

2012-02-27T21:41:00.000-08:00

Our goal in Peace Corps is “integration”. To live like a local and become part of the community. There are several reasons for that.

One is safety. If people think we have a lot of “stuff” and money that places us at risk. It also places us in a different social stratosphere. It makes it harder for people to relate to us. And being white, foreign and English-speaking, we’re already hard enough to relate to. Living like a local also makes it easier to get things done. If people think you’re part of the community they are more likely to trust you.

Today, once again, it was in-my-face that I’m not living like a local. Teachers here get paid every two weeks. My teachers were paid last week. They were broke before payday and they’re broke now. I get a monthly living allowance. It is not a lot. Let’s just say that I earned more in 5 hours as a consultant what I earn here in a month. But it is more than teachers earn.

The other factor is that the teachers are typically the only bread winners in their families. They may support 20 other people. I just have to buy food for myself. One of my host sisters was telling me she’s the only one in my family in Apia with a job. So she is responsible for food, transportation, fun, etc. for four siblings either in university or looking for work. She is 19. She does not begrudge the responsibility. And she gives one brother with a knee injury a massage every night. I’d be telling him to get over himself and get a job.

We have interval every day for 30 minutes (or 20 or an hour or two, whatever). That is the time for eating. Today, the teachers ate rice. They offered me a bowl but I told them to eat mine. I had some ramen noodles that I pulled out of my cupboard. They were jealous. When was the last time your lunch was plain rice? I gave half my ramen to my 3 year old friend, the daughter of one of the teachers. They shared it. I was still hungry but knew that I had a ‘fridge full of food.

After school, I was talking with some of the teachers. “Do you have food in your house?” they asked. “Yes, macaroni salad. I had some last night and it is my dinner for tonight.” “Bring it to us.” “No, because then I will have no dinner.”

I showed them the text I’d received from Peace Corps that my monthly living allowance is delayed a week. No problem for me, since I live below my means (thanks, mom and dad, for teaching me that) but the other volunteers don’t. Many were dead broke last week.

One of the questions and challenges here is how far to go to integrate in the community. If you’re Jewish, do you still attend a Christian church every Sunday because that is fa’asamoa? If you’re a volunteer do you only eat what your fellow teachers eat? Rice, canned sardines, taro and breadfruit? Do you only take the bus when sometimes a taxi is almost as cheap and so much easier? Do you spend weekends at resorts, drinking beer and spending money on food? Do you stock pile food at Farmer Joe’s when you’re in Apia?

Those are questions we each have to answer. We each have to find our own paths. I’m trying to walk a middle line. I will never be viewed as a Samoan. I’m not. I’m an American. I’ll never truly live like a local. My friends will be eating boiled bananas or breadfruit for dinner. I’ll have tuna mac salad and an apple/blue cheese sandwich thanks to my bargain shopping. I just hope I’m living in a way that they can respect.

Triumph and Sadness

2012-02-27T21:36:00.001-08:00

There’s a teachers’ meeting for Years 7 & 8 so those kids stayed home today. That meant I had much of my day free. Hurray! I worked on the office décor – typing signs and materials and posting them, per the request of my principal. I also spent 30 minutes with a Year 8 student.

No, he wasn’t supposed to be at school. Last year he had the dubious distinction of being the last in his class. I told him this year would be different. He lives next door to me and is related to my family in some way. He’s a sweet, gentle, funny boy. But he’s been left behind, academically.

This morning he came to drop off food for his younger sister. He stopped by the office because he knew I was there. I think he’s in the midst of a 13 year old teacher crush and was less interested in learning than just hanging out with someone he likes, who pays attention to him. But he was willing to work.

We worked on phonics with flash cards. I read him a story in English and helped him read it back. That wasn’t working so well so I got a book in Samoan. First go around, not so good. Second time, much better. I saw the light in his eyes when he started to connect that letters and sounds and words were all connected. And could form a story.

This is why I became a teacher in 1972. It’s why I agreed to be a teacher in Peace Corps in 2010. To see a child learn. The third time, he got it. Not perfect, but he was starting to sound out words.

We were interrupted when his older brother came to the door looking for him. Minutes later as I was walking downstairs, I heard the unmistakable sound of wood on flesh. A sound I hear all too often. I looked over toward his house and saw that he was being beaten. I assume it was because he wasn’t doing his chores. Because he was learning to read.

Small Things

2012-02-25T16:30:00.005-08:00

I was talking to an American yesterday in Apia. She’s here working on her doctoral dissertation. We agreed that it is the small things that are both challenging and wonderful.

For example, it’s been cloudy and relatively cool here this morning. Probably mid-80’s. Now the sun is out and my house is talking. That’s how I think of it when it makes noises as the sun heats the tin room. I’ll miss that sound although I won’t miss the heat that comes with it.

I saw my host sister petting one of the dogs today. That’s the first time I’ve seen a Samoan pet a dog. The visiting American was saying she found out recently that her cat (back home) has kidney disease. It’s upsetting to her but she can’t share that with any Samoan friends. Our animals are pets and members of the family. Here, they are annoyances or serve a purpose. The thought of sending a sympathy card for the loss of a dog or cat would seem ludicrous to Samoans.

The constancy of the sound of the waves is a great comfort to me. It reminds me that there is something much bigger and more important than my puny complaints. It reminds me that life will go on long after I will. It reminds me that there is beauty and mystery under a seemingly smooth surface.

I was gone Friday and Saturday. Today at church I saw many of my school kids. You’d think I’d been gone for months. Those delighted and genuine smiles are wonderful. Yesterday I took a cab to the wharf with some other volunteers. We stopped at McDonald’s drive-thru on our way out of town. There was a car parked nearby with two little boys and their parents in it. Those little boys couldn’t get enough of staring and waving at the carload of palagis. If one palagi is interesting, seeing a whole car full is a real treat. I waved back the whole time.

Not knowing basics of social cues is frustrating and makes me feel uncomfortable and like an idiot. Many of the people I know live in open fales. No walls. Others live in palagi houses but the door is rarely closed. The same is true of my house. When someone approaches my house, the dogs usually announce their presence and I go to the doorway to greet them and invite them in. That happens when I visit a Samoan home, too. Sometimes.

Other times, the person sitting in an open fale clearly sees me but says nothing. We were told to just walk up, take off our shoes, step onto the cement floor and sit. But stepping into someone’s house when they haven’t invited me in, or even greeted me, feels wrong. It’s happened several times when a group of people is inside talking. They see me coming. Conversation stops. They watch me walk up. I say hello. I may or may not get a greeting in return. Usually there is some kind of greeting, even if just a nod. Then I stand just outside looking, I’m sure, awkward and very palagi.

Sometimes I’ve realized they’re waiting to invite me in until whoever they’ve sent running to get a chair for me shows up. Sometimes I think they feel just as awkward as I do. Hard to say but it still happens and it’s still uncomfortable. In the States, I know to just walk up to the door and ring the bell. Someone will answer, or not. They’ll invite me in, or not. But I’ll know what’s going on.

Yesterday at the wharf I was a bit early and the security guys invited me to put my luggage outside to make it easier to grab as I got on the boat. Nice of them. But when I went to get on my backpack was missing. I asked the guard and he shrugged. My sister was with me and she told him I was not just some palagi tourist but a Peace Corps and part of her family and he’d better find my bag. He told us to check in the luggage area on the boat.

We did and my backpack was there. My sister stepped in again and explained that someone had taken my backpack and brought it onto the boat and they better keep an eye on it so the same person didn’t try to take it off the boat.

One employee explained he had brought it on. Why? I’ll never know. He didn’t bring the suitcase it was sitting on. They’ve never carried my luggage on before unless I was with it. I retrieved both bags as I was getting off the boat and everything was intact.

My sister and I were lugging my stuff as we headed toward the bus. A man came running up and told me to come with him. I hesitated and he grabbed my arm and started pulling me with him. I still hesitated. He started explaining he was the supokoka (what I call a bus boy) for my bus. I knew that but I wanted him to take the suitcase that my sister was hauling for me.

He hefted the bag and led the way. He loaded my stuff on the bus and when we got to my house told the bus driver to stop then unloaded my stuff for me. That’s a 45 minute bus ride, personal service and luggage handling and music, all for $1 USD.

Food or Books?

2012-02-25T16:24:00.001-08:00

When I go to Apia, which is usually every 2 or 3 months, I buy food. Things I can’t get on my island. Olives, peppers, marshmallows (although there were none to be had this trip), canned tomatoes, nail polish remover (ok, not food), lentils, etc. I also buy fresh produce that I can’t get here. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t sell the same produce at the market since it can (and frequently is) grown on my island. It’s because there’s no one to buy it. There are very few palagis on my island and very few Samoans interested in expanding the very limited menu here.

Now that Mr. Kindle is brain dead, I need books. Books are in short supply here. They have a few English novels at the Wesley book store, but they are mostly religion-themed and about $20 US a book. There’s a library which I hear has English books but the hours are 10:00 to 3:00 and I’m teaching then. No Saturday hours. Importing books from the stash at the PC office seems the best option.

Friday I went to Apia for meetings, shopping and a cooking lesson with our Country Director’s wife. It was a dilemma. I had a carry on bag (roller type) and a back pack. Since I was just there for one night, I took very little with me. The problem coming home was less space than weight. I typically read 2 books or so a week. If I exchange books every 2 months, that’s 16 books. That’s a lot of weight. Jar of jalepenos or a book? Choices, choices.

I was talking to a couple of other volunteers yesterday and admitted that I’m a food hoarder. They said they were too. I used to read magazines like Family Circle which advocated making up menus for a month and shopping only for those items. If you planned carefully and used leftovers you could save millions of dollars. I tried it. Once. But sometimes when it was spaghetti night, I wanted chicken.

Samoans eat what they have. And typically, they have food in the house for one meal. If you’re not in the mood for whatever that food is, you don’t eat. But that wouldn’t happen. They are not spoiled, like I am, and think you should be able to eat whatever you have a taste for at the time.

It felt better to hear that the other two volunteers use my approach. Keep the cupboards stocked with staples and fresh veg of some kind and then you can whip up whatever. No advance planning needed. But I still feel a twinge of guilt when I look at my fully stocked ‘fridge and cupboards. Misplaced guilt? Perhaps. Guilt or not, it’s the way I prefer to eat and I’ll keep doing it. I’m already planning to “eat down” my pantry before I leave. Most of the stuff I have my Samoan friends and family wouldn’t want and the new volunteers will be in training on the other island. Even the pigs won’t eat my lentils. They don’t know what they’re missing.

I’m getting ready to leave for church and still don’t know what I’ll have for lunch after. Because I shopped in Apia yesterday, I have meat other than chicken legs/thighs. I scored some chorizo. Locally made and barely spiced, but still, it’s chorizo. Also got a few pieces of chuck steak. I freeze packages of about 3 ounces and use it to make green chile stew and other treats. I also have bleu cheese. Farmer Joe’s discounts their dairy products when the expiration date is nigh. I got the cheese for $2.50, US. Normally $13 and out of my price range. There were two packages left and I bought them both. Another volunteer was thrilled to repay me for it so we both got bargain cheese.

I also have “real” green beans. Not the tough long beans that I can get here part of the year, but actual green beans. My options for lunch are endless. Every Samoan family in the village will be having taro, breadfruit, chicken and, perhaps, pig.

Time

2012-02-22T18:33:00.000-08:00

I have trouble with time. It can drag. Or speed by in the blink of an eye. Samoa has not helped. I never know when things will start here. Or end. Church is scheduled for 9:00 a.m. Sometimes it starts then, but that's rare. Usually it's more like 9:20 a.m. Rarely, it's 8:45 a.m.

School is the same way. We have a schedule. We ring the bell when it is time to start assembly, start classes, have interval, etc. But the time varies. Today, we were running early. Instead of the normal 8:10 bell, it rang at 8:00. The bell for interval, which normally is at 11:20 rang at 11:10. I was in the middle of something with my class so we kept going until 11:20.

I was substitute teaching for Year 8 today. Their teacher, who is also the principal was at a meeting. The Year 7 teacher could have taken them since he wasn't teaching Year 7 but he was too tired. He went to Australia just when school started. After the two month break, followed by his 3 week vacation overseas, he says he's too tired to teach so needed this week to rest. While I taught Years 7 and 8 today, he slept in the library.

At the end of the day I'd taken Year 8 out to the hall. I'd asked the neighbor boy who's in that class to cut some sticks for me. I asked for four. He brought me 24.

I showed the kids how to play a game that involves rhythmic hitting and throwing of the sticks between pairs of players. It's a Maori game I saw at the cultural show in New Zealand. The kids loved it. Since there is no love lost between Samoans and Maoris I didn't tell them where the game came from.

I was busy working with the kids as they learned this new game when the Infant Supervisor asked what I was doing. I explained the game. "No" she said. "Why are you still here?"

I looked around and realized all the other kids were headed toward the street with the teachers on their heels. I looked at my watch. We still had 30 minutes before school was scheduled to be out. The Infant Supervisor explained that she dismissed the school early because she and the other teachers wanted to go into town to the bank. We dismissed early yesterday, too, because it was payday and they wanted to go to the bank.

I hustled the kids back up stairs and we finished up and said a prayer. The other teachers were gone by the time I left school. Still 5 minutes before school was supposed to be over.

I feel like I just got to Samoa. I feel like I've been here a lifetime. I don't understand time.

Paradise Sucks

2012-02-21T22:11:00.000-08:00

Here's some advice for you if you're ever in the tropics. Inspect the toilet paper before you use it. Because if it's been in an open air bathroom, like the one I use at school, overnight, chances are there are spiders on it.

First thing yesterday I had a gastric emergency. Happens here. I ran for the bathroom and wiped before inspecting. I then developed spider crotch. Had to make yet another run for the toilet. This was all during morning assembly before school starts. You try to explain what was going on in Samoan to teachers who thought you were being disrespectful by running out.

That was the highlight of my week so far. I'm attributing things to the Prednizone I was taking for the lung infection. I 'm cranky. The infection is better, thanks. Today I developed a sore throat and am exhausted. I'm sick of being sick.

I'm also sick of Year 8 attitude. Today I had them write the characteristics of fa'asamoa. They did a splendid job. Respect. Generosity. Kindness. Gratefulness. Joy. I asked if they were showing me the best of fa'asamoa. Nope, they agreed they were not. But seemed unable to stop themselves. Cheeky little buggers.

My local partner in the homework/reading centers has come to the school every day to change the date/time. We've now cancelled this week and are hoping to start next week.

After cooking dinner, on a hotplate on a clean counter, I did the dishes. When wiping off the counter I found rat poop. It appeared while I was eating dinner. He's going to die.

It has not been a splendid week, so far. It is Ash Wednesday. I'm planning to give up whining for Lent.

I'm a Murderer

2012-02-19T17:45:00.003-08:00

No, I didn’t kill that rat. I would not be distraught if I’d killed the rat. I’d be celebrating. No, I think I killed Mr. Kindle.

If you’ve read much of my blog you know that Mr. Kindle and I are close. We go to bed together every night. Since I prefer to sleep alone, after we’re done sharing time together, I put Mr. Kindle on the table close to me. Last night, I enjoyed his services and was starting to doze off. As I put him on the table. I dropped him. Or he slipped. I don’t know, I just know he hit the floor. It didn’t seem that hard and I didn’t even bother to check on him.

This morning I did and he was turned on but the screen is muddled and unreadable. I’ve tried rebooting and that isn’t working. I’ve called 911. Or at least I’m sending a message to Amazon to see if they have a magic solution. If not, I’ll have to see about replacing (sob) my loyal Mr. Kindle.

I’ve already booked my flight in May to New Zealand. Surely Amazon can send me one there. In the meantime, I’ll be carrying a ton of books from Apia this weekend. PC Office has a stash that volunteers read/trade. I can live without TV. I can’t live without books.

I’ll keep you posted on how things go with Mr. Kindle. If he has to be laid to rest let me know if you want an invitation. I’m sure TMZ will want to live-stream the funeral. I’m thinking burial at sea. Seems appropriate, since he’s kept my spirits afloat on the island.

Small Game Hunting in Samoa

2012-02-19T17:40:00.003-08:00

I was settling in for a quiet night. Clean sheets, Mr. Kindle. Relaxing and preparing for a good night’s sleep. When I saw something move across the room. Move isn’t the best word. Scurry is a better description. I’ve seen that kind of scurrying before so I leaped up and grabbed my weapon. Well, it was a broom, but it can do a lot of damage if you use it right.

For the next 15 minutes the rat and I ran back and forth across the room. Me trying to whack it with the broom and him running for his life. Based on the squeals, I got in a few good blows. But then he disappeared. Not up the wall. Perhaps there’s a hole in a baseboard. Or he might have crawled up the back of the desk and is hiding there.

I baited my rat trap with soap because I’m not wasting the only cheese I have on a rodent. Besides, I’m guessing the little bugger wouldn’t know what cheese is. I put the trap under the desk, about eight feet from my bed. I’ve got mixed feelings. I want to catch the brazen sucker but really don’t want to have to deal with a captured rat at 3:00 a.m.

I was all relaxed and feeling snuggly. Now my adrenaline is pumping and I want to kill something. Ironic for a Peace Corps, don’t you think?

I’ll let you know how it goes. By the way, you know the phrase “scared the crap out me?” It must be true because every rat I’ve captured has pooped his brains out while waiting in the trap to be released. Guess they know that since the cats will be waiting, freedom will be very temporary and the end will be bloody.

It is now Monday morning. Cool and a beautiful sunrise. But no stinking rat in the cage. Rat poop on my counter, though. Near my food. The rat war is on.

Beyond School

2012-02-18T20:35:00.001-08:00

My primary assignment in Samoa is teaching English to Years 1-8 in a primary school in a rurual village. Additionally, I’m responsible for co-teaching and providing opportunities for the teachers I work with to learn new techniques. That takes about six hours a day on week days and another several hours on the weekend doing lesson planning and preparation.

We’re encouraged to do at least one secondary project. To some volunteers, that means grant writing and getting “stuff” for their village. Our goal is to have sustainable progress. When we’re gone, will the changes take hold and make a difference in the long run is the criteria. Samoa is accustomed to receiving funds and support from a variety of countries. There currently seems to be a bidding war in the Pacific – who can court the island governments by providing the most support. A variety of political reasons, with the impact of China’s growth seemingly a large part of the reason. Does it help, in the long run? Is it what is really needed?

I don’t think so. Rather, I think it perpetuates the cycle of entitlement and lack of self-sufficiency. This is especially true because so many things are given that are of no real or perceived value here. Here’s an example. We have a fairly well-stocked library at my school. Most of the books are beyond the comprehension level of the students, but we have a lot of books. I have never seen another teacher allow students into the library. I was chastised for it.

Instead, the library has become a sort of shrine. Someone from the Ministry, responsible for monitoring the New Zealand grant money comes to inspect the library to make sure the resources are there. Yes, they are because they have not been touched.

I’ve been asked to write grants for new computers, other electronic equipment and new buildings. Are they needed? Yes. Would they be used? Doubtful. We have one new computer, which came from grant money. I’m the only one who uses it. I have scheduled classes after school every day to teach the other teachers how to use it. No one has taken me up on the offer yet.

This has made finding a secondary project a challenge. Many times people will agree they want something, but not enough to become involved. Yes, it would give me an opportunity to get out of my village on official business if I take on a big project on my own. Yes, it would look good on my resume or in newspaper/tv spots I promote. Does it help? Perhaps.

I’ve opted to let the projects come to me. I’ve told people what my skills are. I’ve asked what they’re interested in. Then I waited. So far, it seems to be working.

One woman wanted help in writing a grant to get a new school in the village she and her family are moving to. She didn’t want me to write it. She just wanted guidance in how to go about it. I provided the guidance which included samples and sources of grant monies along with specifics that she should include in her grant. She’s doing the leg work to get the specific information, not me.

One resort owner expressed a problem with lack of training for his staff. When I told him I’d done a lot of customer service training in the tourism industry, he asked me to help. I’ll be piloting a program with his staff. Based on reactions, I’ll take it on the road if there seems to be genuine interest.

I’ve offered to help college kids with their homework. There are two colleges near my village. Based on the five students who came to my fale today for help, there seems to be a need. While I was working with them, the wife of the pastor of my church came by. We’d talked about doing an after-school reading program for the primary school aged kids, regardless of which church they attend.

Starting Tuesday, we’ll do a reading session for an hour twice a week. Immediately after that, we’ll conduct a homework session for college kids. We’ll be encouraging the college kids to come for the reading program to help out. We’re expecting about 50 primary kids coming to hone their reading skills.

Newsworthy? No. Tiring? Yes. Helpful? I believe that the ability to read is one of the most important skills that anyone can have. Will this change the world or even this small village? No, not really. My goal is to change one attitude. One perspective. Motivate one person. Not very inspirational, I admit, but imagine if we each helped just one other person.

Just wanted everyone to know there’s more to Peace Corps Samoa than enjoying the beach.

The Photos Keep Coming - New Zealand

2012-02-18T20:34:00.000-08:00

Enjoying the fresh air and scenery on the cruise. If the top I'm wearing looks familiar its because I wore it almost everyday. It was the warmest piece of clothing I own here. I bought it second hand in Apia for $6 US. Great investment!

Our cabin on the overnight cruise in Bay of Islands.

A private yacht. 35 crew. 2 owners on board. Bet they don't do laundry in a bucket.

View of the famous Hole in the Rock in Bay of Islands, taken from a helicopter. What a fun ride!

More New Zealand Pictures, Maybe

2012-02-18T18:33:00.000-08:00

Guessing Barack and Michelle don't hang at this strip club near my hotel in Auckland.

Washer and dryer in my bathroom at apt. at Bianco Off Queen. Clean clothes - no bucket required.

First dinner in Auckland apartment. Salad, hummus, bleu cheese. Stellar.

Had lunch in the revolving restaurant of the sky tower. 1076 feet high. Tallest structure in the Southern Hemisphere.

We were just chilling, while Donna soaked off her gel nail polish.